ART-HETALIA!-POP
by Gothic Dancer
Summary: A series of one-shots for Lady Gaga's ARTPOP. Follow-up to Born This Hetalian Way. Track 1: Magyar performs Aura


Author's Note: HELLO, EVERYONE, I'M BACK, DID YOU MISS ME?

Oh man, I've missed writing Hetalia/Gaga fics so much. ARTPOP took way too long to arrive, but I'm so glad it's here now because I get to write for you again! As always, your thoughts and feedback are greatly appreciated.

Also, to new readers: Please read The Hetalian Monster (which contains The Hetalian Fame), Hetalia's Christmas Tree, and Born This Hetalian Way before you read this. Otherwise, you'll be lost. Thank you and enjoy!

**Title: ART-HETALIA!-POP**

**Track 1: Aura**

Damn Ottoman Empire.

That was all Magyar could think as his sword clashed with Turkey's, the man's face contorted in concentration and determination. Turkey smirked at him, and his eyes flashed behind his mask. The man was getting old. There was no way he would last much longer.

"Tell me, how is that lovely relic you keep locked up? Is that why you fight so desperately, to keep her safe?" Turkey asked smugly, pressing his sword against Magyar's and pushing him back. Magyar's heels dug into the dirt beneath him as he tried to resist falling backwards.

The Ottoman Empire was getting too strong. Magyar knew that the Turks had been spreading their power and influence for some time now, trading with strong European and Asian nations and conquering weak, surrounding lands. It was only a matter of time until Turkey arrived to take away the one thing Magyar treasured more than anything.

Magyar pushed his fear out of his mind and tried to focus on regaining his balance. The hot sun beat down him, causing sweat to pour down his body and his eyes to squint out of instinct. The land beneath them was dry. Behind him was the area where the flourishing, bountiful lands of Europe met the Middle Eastern desert. In front of him, sand, rocks, and dying plants spread across his vision. He shuddered at the thought of staying there for the rest of his life, even if what remained of his life was short.

Turkey suddenly grit his teeth. "Tell me where she is!" he shouted, pushing his sword down even harder. Magyar buckled beneath his strength and gasped in surprise, arms shaking as he held his own sword up. He managed to shake his head without giving any further leeway, but he couldn't see Turkey's foot rising. He was on his back, a pain in his stomach, before he even knew it.

"If you don't tell me, I'll just kill you and find her myself," Turkey continued. "I can't tell you how many formerly powerful figures and lands my soldiers and I have killed. I've lost count! Swords and knives stuck in them, left on the side of the road to die. Do you want to meet the same fate?"

Damn the Ottoman Empire. Damn the Ottoman Empire and all its strength.

Magyar tried to push himself up, but Turkey thrust his sword at his neck, barely nicking the skin. The Turk was expecting a surrender, but Magyar just grinned.

"I'm an old man set to die soon," he said weakly yet confidently. "Oh, I worry for my dear Hungary. I love her more than anything or anyone, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect her."

Turkey snorted. "So you locked her away like a precious treasure, somewhere mortal eyes won't be able to see her. Typical of you soft Europeans. None of you truly know how to fight." He gripped his sword roughly and was about to stab Magyar's neck when the old man clasped both his palms against it, effectively stopping it the moment it broke the very outer skin.

He grinned. "I still have some fight in me."

And he pushed the sword away and let it stab the ground instead. Turkey pulled it up quickly, but he still wasn't fast enough to go after Magyar again. The old man was back on his feet, a stable grip on his own sword and a knowing grin on his face. "You underestimate me but you also underestimate Hungary."

Turkey rolled his eyes. "Are you seriously going to start with that shit? I don't want to hear it, old man! I'll have her and make her my slave! She'll entertain me every night and obey my every command, just another trophy in my collection." He tightened his grip on his sword and charged forward again.

Their swords seemed to clash for hours, and Turkey was starting to get impatient. Where was the old man keeping all that energy? Turkey was far more powerful. He was younger and stronger as a nation and had much more influence than Magyar had had even during the old man's golden age. It was mind-boggling.

As if he could read his mind, Magyar smirked. "Confused? You should have beaten me ages ago, is that what you're thinking? Ah, you young people don't know a damn thing. All you care about is expanding your territories with little to no regard as to what's really important. You're not even thinking about what makes an empire truly great."

"I don't want to hear that crap from you, stupid old bastard!"

"If only you young things would listen to your elders and learn from their mistakes."

"What the hell are you talking about!"

Magyar just shrugged, still grinning. "Maybe I've gone senile."

Turkey snorted, obviously annoyed. "That's more like it. Now just die already!" His movements were starting to get more erratic and less organized. His face was flushed underneath his mask, and his breathing was getting shallow and desperate. His state wasn't due to the pulsing sun or the heated ground either. He was starting to lose it.

Magyar's grin softened to a smile. "Or maybe you made an incorrect assumption."

"Huh?"

The sword appeared out of nowhere. Turkey froze at the feeling of the sharp metal on his neck, and his breathing stilled out of shock. Nervously he let his eyes travel to the side.

Hungary.

She stood there with the sword in her sure hands, a wide grin spread across her face. In a flash she kicked at Turkey's legs, causing the man to stumble and giving Magyar just enough time to stabilize himself. He watched with pride as Hungary backed Turkey up slowly. At one point, the Turk attempted to stab at her with his own sword, but she quickly grabbed his arm, halting his attack.

"Yes, you made an incorrect assumption," she hissed gleefully. "You assumed that Magyar had locked me up to protect me. Tell me why. Why didn't you think that perhaps he'd teach me to fight? That he would protect me by teaching me to protect myself?"

"Oh god…"

"Did you want me to be your slave? Is that what you said? Do you want to see me naked? Do you want to peek at what I truly am, what's underneath this outer layer of mine?"

Turkey swallowed hard.

"Well, you're seeing it. I'm just as much of a warrior as anyone else."

Hungary suddenly pulled him back and slammed him up against a rock, giving her and Magyar just enough time to escape. They ran until they couldn't, back to the green grass of Europe, safely out of Turkey's sight.

For now.

They panted hard as they lay in the grass side by side staring up at the blue sky and the puffy clouds floating against it. Oh, it was so beautiful.

And so was Hungary, looking quite satisfied with herself as she grinned at Magyar. "Sorry, I'm not strong enough to defeat the Ottoman Empire just yet. But I'll keep fighting! If nothing else, maybe I can at least stay out of his clutches for a while, huh?

Magyar just smiled sadly. The Ottoman Empire wasn't the only superpower out there ready to pounce at the chance to take Hungary away. That Austrian man was growing in power every single day, and he had his sights set on Hungary and several other lands, including that cute little Italian lad. Hungary was plenty strong, but she wouldn't be able to fight back effectively if both came for her at the same time.

Ah, but that could wait for another time. "I'm proud of you," Magyar murmured. "You've grown up well, and you've become so strong."

"Hee hee!" Hungary giggled. "It's all thanks to you! Thanks for teaching me how to fight!" She giggled a bit more but then stopped, her own smile softening into a slightly sad one. "But, you know, unless I become a powerful empire, I won't be able to stand on my own forever. I'll probably end up conquered sooner or later."

Magyar's heart sank. "Hungary…"

"But it's okay!" the young girl reasoned. "When that time comes, I'll at least still have the strength and power to choose where I go!"

As much as the thought of his dear Hungary being subjected to a conquering sickened him, Magyar still couldn't help but smile. She'll always be this strong, he knew it. Maybe not in international power or influence, but as herself. He reached out, took her hand, and managed a smile for her.

"Never lose the power to make choices for yourself, Hungary," he said. "Never lose the will to stand up for what you want and what you believe in. Never change yourself against your will. Only then are you truly conquered."

Hungary nodded, squeezing his hand back. She'd never be truly conquered.

Ever.

_Do you wanna see me naked, lover?_

_Do you wanna peek underneath the cover?_

_Do you wanna see the girl who lives behind the aura, behind the aura?_

_Do you wanna touch me, cosmic lover?_

_Do you wanna peek underneath the cover?_

_Do you wanna see the girl who lives behind the aura,_

_Behind the aura, behind the aura, behind the aura?_

END


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